My Brother's Keep
by Obstreperous Certitude
Summary: Michael, Sam and Fiona have found Nate's killer. More precisely, she's found them... This is a crossover between Burn Notice and the movie Hitman.
1. Chapter 1

Fi was mid-rant as she and Michael came home. "Michael, Sam and Pierce haven't found a single thing about the shooter and they've been at it for nearly a month. It's like he disappeared."

"Fi, I'm not going to let Nate's killer get away." Michael paused. "And he took out Anson. That means there's something more going on, something beyond Anson. No one comes to Miami, snipes a high value target and just disappears."

Fi stopped in front of Michael, taking his hands in hers. "Babe, I'm not suggesting we stop looking. If someone had killed my brother, or you," she squeezed his hands gently, "I'd chase them to the ends of the earth." Fi stopped to gather her thoughts. "I'm just saying there's something strange going on, something's different, I have a bad feeling Michael."

"You're right Fi, there is something different." Michael leaned in and kissed her cheek softly. "We have to keep pushing forward and see where this leads."

Fi rested her head against his chest. "I know, that's the part that scares me. Where will it lead? Where will it end? Maybe it never ends."

Michael knew what she meant but chose not to comment. It was no old argument. He knew he could never let the assassin go and was thankful that Fi knew that about him but loved him anyway. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him.

Michael kissed Fi's cheek again and moved towards the kitchen. He went to the frig for his usual and noticed the half eaten yogurt sitting on the counter. Odd. "Fi, did I … " He stopped midsentence becoming aware of a strange silence in the loft.

Michael looked up to find Fi frozen in place, she was staring up into the darkness as the figure at the top of the stairs. His first instinct was to draw his gun but knew that would be a mistake. This intruder had the high ground. Michael tried to focus his eyes into the darkness. I could only make out a dark silhouette and the glint of a gun their hand.

"Please, don't move, not so much as an inch," a voice came from above. "Michael, if you would please. Your gun, toss it on the bed."

Michael moved slowly, deliberately, from behind the counter, reaching behind his back as the same time. His eyes never left the figure. He knew the closer he got, the better he could make out the figure and maybe take a shot.

"With your left hand, please," the voice came again.

Michael did as he was asked, annoyed at the "pleases" that came with each demand. He tossed his gun across to the bed, a little too hard, it bounced once and fell to the floor.

As if reading his mind or perhaps his face, "and now on your knees." There was no courtesy in this demand but the calm, unhurried, confidence tone remained.

Fi turned her head slightly to look at Michael. Fear shown clearly on her face.

"I'm not here to harm either of you but let's not test that resolve."

Michael slowly dropped to one knee and then the other.

"Ms. Fiona, if you would please, behind his back." A pair of zip ties fell at her feet.

Fi bent over slowly, she made no attempt to hide the anger from her face. She picked up the ties and walked back to where Michael was kneeling.

"Who are you?" Michael asked putting his hands behind his back. He needed to get this person talking. All he had at this point was a voice but the way someone talked, their syntax, colloquialisms, accent, etc., could tell Michael a great deal.

Michael's question was met with silence.

Fi moved behind Michael and slipped the ties over his hands. There was the faint sound of the ties closing.

"A little tighter if you would please." Fi felt both anger and fear turn her stomach over. Whoever this was, they knew what they were doing.

"And now you Ms. Fiona," another pairs of ties dropped in front of her.

"In this dress? On this fifthly floor?" Fi protested

A rumpled towel fell out of the darkness on to the floor.

Michael watched Fi as she laid the towel down on the cold cement floor. He pulled her skirt slightly, knelt down and zipped her hands behind her back. She considered not closing the loops as much as she could but thought better of it. Fi mumbled under her breath, "son of … " and zipped the ties a little tighter.

Both watched as a figure rose and stepped slowly down the stairs. Each step deliberate, casual, poised and with a chrome plated pistol in hand.

"That's my gun" Fi blurted, she did not like anyone touching her things, especially her guns.

"Is it?" What before was a non-descript voice, now clearly belonged to a woman. She turned Fi's HK USP 45 over in her hand. "Very nice."

She reached the bottom of the stairs and sat on one of the lower steps. She wore a light blue hoody, pulled over her head, framing and covering most of her face.

Michael was going more impatient. "Now that we've decided on our seating arrangements, you want tell us what this is all about?"

The figure reached up and pulled the hoody back slightly to reveal a little more of her face. She was pretty, maybe beautiful, high cheekbones, there wasn't much more Michael could make out. The stairs were just out of reach of the sunlight that came through the windows.

"Who are you?" Michael asked

She looked at looked at Michael, then Fi and then at the gun in her hand.

"You're him, I mean her. You're the assassin." Fi blurted

"You … " Michael said with equal parts accusation and anger in his voice.

"No" she said looking directly at him, "You killed your brother. "

"You shot him." Michael retorted

She looked at him unwaveringly, "I pulled the trigger and unfortunately your brother was in the way."

Fi couldn't contain her disbelief "In the way?! He was behind Anson when you shot him."

She waited in silence, never taking her eyes from Michael.

Michael broke her gaze "in the way," he choked, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "Nate was standing in the line of fire." whispered

"He didn't know better and I could not wait any longer." There was some measure of regret in her voice.

"Why?" Michael desperately needed to change the subject

"Kill Anson? It was necessary."

"If you're not here to kills us" Fi too was growing impatient, "then why are you here? Do you think we're going to just forget that you killed Nate or Anson?"

She ignored Fi's question and turned her gaze back to Michael. "You have a decision to make. You can accept your brother's death as it was, a tragedy, and move on with your life. Or, you can continue to pursue me."

"Why shouldn't we come after you?" Anger returned to Michael's voice.

She turned the gun over in her hand once again admiring the balance, the finish. "I don't have an answer for that question. You're very good at what you do Michael" She rose and went to the workbench. "I'm very good at what I do." She paused, scanning the debris strewn across it. "I hope we won't have to see whose better at their job."

"A threat?" Michael asked. "And I don't control the CIA."

She drew a slip of paper from her pocket and held it up, "This is how you can reach me. I'll give you a week Michael. If I don't hear from you then I'll know you've chosen to move on." She set the paper on the bench and skewed it in place with the screw driver.

Michael and Fi looked at one another, Michael shook his head to silence her. They both still had questions but he knew this "meeting" was over.

She moved to the door to leave and stopped, realizing she still had Fi's gun. She removed the magazine, popped the single round from the chamber and deftly released the slide. She looked back at Fi, "very nice," scattered the pieces on the bench and left.

Michael jumped to his feet, his knees aching, cut himself loose with a box cutter and pulled open the door.

"Michael don't!" Fi shouted after him

He stepped out on the landing just soon enough to hear a motorcycle race away.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael knew better than to call the number immediately. He was too emotional to make any rational decision. For some reason, Jefferson came to mind, "Delay is preferable to error."

Fi was strangely quiet except for one comment about never getting a spot out of her new sundress. She set it to soak and came back to find Michael sitting on the bed. Not wanting to crowd him, she sat down next to him and laid a hand softly on his knee, "What can I do for you Michael? "

He shook his head. "She's right Fi. I got Nate killed."

"No Michael," she couldn't help wanting to be closer. She hugged him tight around his shoulders. "Your brother would have done anything for you. He wanted to be there to help you get Anson."

"He shouldn't have been there. I never would have put a civilian in such a dangerous position. I was too obsessed on getting Anson." He shook his head in disbelief, "I could feel it. I could feel how close we were getting."

Fi choked back tears. She wanted to be strong for Michael. If she lost it too he would want to comfort her. "Nate wasn't a civilian Michael, he was your brother. If he had known where Anson was he would have gone after him without you even asking."

Tears started down Michael's face. He rested his head in his hands and started rocking back and forth. "The last thing I said to him was how he was screwing up our chances to get you out and then I told him to leave."

"I don't understand."

Michael couldn't look at Fi. "I told him to leave because he was jeopardizing the mission and when we found out Anson was near the airport, I called Nate." Michael ran his tear soaked hands through his hair. "I told Nate just to find him, just to watch him until we got there. I should have known better."

Fi tried not to react. This was the first time she was hearing of their last words. She knew Nate was there to help, for transportation only, she thought. She didn't know Michael had angrily sent him away just to call him back. Fiona had plenty of guilt about Nate's death too.

She had turned herself in hoping to make this nightmare stop and it only made things worse. With her in jail and facing extradition to the U.K, she had put Michael under more to find Anson. She pushed her own feelings aside. "No matter what you said Michael, you loved Nate. He knew that and you've both been there for each other, always. He would have done anything for you and you for him." Fi brushed the hair from Michael's forehead.

Michael knew he couldn't keep on this like this, he had to get his shit together. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "What do you think of our visitor?"

Fi lay back on the bed, pulling Michael down next to her. She leaned against him, resting on her elbow, draping her other arm across his chest. "I don't know. She was in our house Michael. She could have killed us both the moment we walked through the door. Hell, she could have killed us from six blocks away."

"Honor among assassins?" he quipped, drawing lazy circles on her forearm with his fingers.

"I don't know about honor but she was no amateur." Fi laid her head on Michael's chest.

Mike sat up suddenly, "Oh shit, I need to call Pierce."

"Michael, that woman said we were to back off. Do you really want to involve Pierce?"

"This is too big Fi. I can't leave Pierce or the agency out of this." Michael pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "And they need to get a forensics team over here." Michael paused mid-dial, "Fi, she didn't say they had to stop looking." He looked at her, "she only said that I had to stop." Michael finished dialing the number.

In less than 20 minutes Peirce was at the loft with a small army of crime scene techs. "Well, we checked the phone number. It goes to a burn phone, manufactured two years and activated last week."

Michael shook his head, he shouldn't be surprised. "Prints?"

"Oh yeah, we found prints all over the place. That being the case, I doubt we'll find match to anyone."

"What do you mean 'all over'?" Fi looked at Michael.

"Yup, prints in every room." Pierced headed for the door, "we'll run them of course, but like I said, the fact that she didn't to avoid leaving any means they'll probably lead no where."

It was early morning of day two before Michael decided to call Sam. Everyone had decided to "take a break" after Nate's death. Other than a few text messages he hadn't spoken to Sam in a couple weeks.

Sam picked up the phone after just one ring. Considering how early it was he sounded wide awake, "How you doing Mike?"

"I need your help Sam." Michael immediately regretted those words. He'd said them far too often in the last six years.

There was no hesitation in Sam's response, "Sure, wattya need?"

Michael looked around the loft. The forensic team had really done a number on it. Fi had been up for an hour already, still cleaning up, still pissed and wiping down (for the second time) every object the intruder might have touched. "I'll come to you. Where are you?"

"Where else brother, Carlito's."

"'I'll be there in an hour." Mike hung up the phone

Even from a distance Michael could see Sam sitting at his usual patio table. Michael shook his head. Sam's shirts could be seen from space.

Sam finally saw Michael and waved him over. As Michael got closer he saw that Sam wasn't alone. Michael stopped at the bar to order a drink. The woman seated with Sam wasn't Elsa. Sam's girlfriend had long dark hair. Michael could tell, even with her seated, that this woman was taller, never mind the fact she also had very short blond hair.

Sam waved Michael over again. Michael smiled, nodded and headed over.

Sam was still laughing, wiping a tear from his eye when Michael reached the table. "Damn girl, you've got some stories!" Michael couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Sam laugh so hard.

Michael tried to squash the feeling of frustration that Sam had a guest. He needed to talk to him alone but he also liked seeing his friend in good spirits. Michael planted a smile firmly on his face.

"Hey Mikey, I want to you meet Anna. Anna, this is my good buddy Mikey." Sam got up to grab a chair for his buddy.

"Hello Michael, it's nice to meet you." Anna smiled warmly taking his hand into hers.

Michael physically felt his heart stop. The woman who was casually sitting across from Sam, who was now softly holding his hand was the same woman who killed his brother, killed Anson and just 48 hours ago threatened to take his life.

He opened his mouth to speak but the words became stuck in his throat. Though neither he nor Fiona had gotten a close look at her face, some features were distinctive. The eyes, cheekbones, smile and voice, her voice was unmistakable.

Michael recovered as best he could. He squeezed her hand a little harder, "Nice to meet you too Anna." She returned his firm grip. Her eyes fixed on his, her warm smile unwavering.

Michael must have hid his emotions well enough because Sam was oblivious to the exchange between them. He shoved a chair behind Michael's knees, "Have a seat!" Sam waived to the waitress that they needed another round.

Michael's head was swimming. _What to do! Think fast!_ The bar was nearly empty; Sam could take care of himself. Michael was sure he could drop this "Anna" bitch to the floor before she knew what hit her. It was then he realized that her left hand was hidden under the tablecloth.

"Anna, tell Mike the one about the shoemaker and burro." Sam started to chuckle again, "Ya gotta hear this Mike."

Michael had finally let Anna's hand free and pulled the chair closer to her. "Yeah, I'd like to hear this story."

Anna turned her attention back to Sam and smiled. "I'm sorry, I have to run."

"So soon?" Sam didn't hide his disappointment

Anna rose and both gentlemen stood up with her. Michael moved a little too quick causing his chair to tip over.

"Problem there Mikey?" Sam frowned

A tiny smirk crossed Anna's face. She raised her left hand slowly and slipped on her sunglasses. She leaned over and whispered something into Sam's ear. As she turned to leave, Sam started grinning like a school boy.

Michael pushed past a waitress who was seating tourists on the patio. She was getting on that bike again. _What to do!_ He was sure he could yank her off the bike. He stopped after two steps. She wasn't trying to get away but looking at him in her rear view mirror. Even without being able to see her face or eyes, her body language was all too clear, _don't even try it_.

Sam appeared beside him on the sidewalk "Mike, what wrong?

Mike watched her ride off, yet again, "Sam," it turned to look at his friend, "you just had drinks with Nate's killer."


	3. Chapter 3

**** Now a crossover between Burn Notice and... I'd hate to give it away before you've read it! The movie I've crossed with BN is listed under "Games" but not under "Movies." Can you guess? ****

"What?"

Mike headed back to their table. "That's what I came here to tell you. This woman broke into the loft two days ago. She … "

Sam grabbed Mike's arm "And you're telling me now?"

Michael didn't pull away, "I'm sorry Sam. It's been a little crazy. Fi's freaking out. Pierce's freaking out. The CIA's pulling the loft apart."

Sam let Michael loose. "Damn." He could only image how Fiona would be right now.

"What can you tell me about her?" Michael said, picking his chair up from the floor.

Sam downed the shot left at the table. "Geez Mike," he waved the waitress over for another. "Make it a double this time." He stared at his empty glass. "I don't know what to tell you Mike. She's been here a few times."

The waitress returned with their drinks. Michael set his aside, "A few times?

Sam picked up his fresh drink. "Yeah, real early, like just before sun up." He couldn't decide whether to slug it or throw it against the wall. Sam decided to down the shot.

"Okay," Michael tried not to sound impatient. "Did she give you a last name? What did you guys talk about?"

"Shit brother, gimme a minute, I'm thinking."

Michael knew when to push Sam; this wasn't one of those times. "I'm sorry Sam." he backed off. "I just need to know everything you can remember."

Sam nodded "She's isn't much of a talker Mike." Sam rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall details. "I've only spoken to her twice."

Michael raised a hand to pause Sam. "You've spoken to her twice?"

"Yeah, a couple weeks before … " Sam paused, not wanting to mention Nate's death. "Oh hey, and she's gotta tattoo, kinda weird."

Michael could tell Sam was getting a toasted. He wasn't going to try and direct Sam's stream of information. He'd take whatever he got, however he got it and sort it out later.

"Okay, a tattoo. What sort of tattoo?"

"Like those lines on the side of the cereal box." Sam paused, looking for the word. "Barcode!" Sam rubbed the back of his neck, "It was just above the hairline."

Michael leaned back in his chair, "Sam, how did you know out about the tattoo?"

"Well…" Sam started, looking sheepish.

"You didn't."

"Well, I didn't know who the hell she was!"

"What about you and Elisa?"

"Aw, she dumped me Mikey. She said I was moving too fast." Sam couldn't bring himself to tell him the real reason. Elsa had had enough of Sam's extracurricular activities, the late hours, sometimes not coming home at all, the half truths or half stories that made no sense. Sam wouldn't have changed a thing he'd done to help Michael but it still hurt.

"I'm sorry Sam. I know you cared a lot for her. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, there was a lot going on at the time," Sam brush off the conversation. "Oh, and I didn't, **you know**, with blondie there while I was with Elsa."

"I know you wouldn't Sam."

Mike couldn't think of anything else to say. Now he one more thing to feel guilty about, his best friend was hurt and he hadn't been there for him. He felt shitty about wanting to get back to the topic but saw that Sam was clearly lost in thought.

Mike started working out a timeline in his head. So, she was in Miami before killing Anson and Nate. That was logical, she was probably doing reconnaissance. Then met up with Sam, but why? Was that just part of getting to Anson or was she after something else? Then she shows up at his loft two days ago telling him to back off or else and then she's back having drinks with Sam today. Some of Anna's behaviors fit typical "spy craft," or in this case, "assassin" craft, but some of it just didn't add up.

Sam's head started to hurt. "God damn Mikey, I can't believe she killed Nate."

"I know Sam." He watched Sam as he zoned out again. Mike wondered if he was thinking of Elsa or Anna. He waited as long as he could stand it, "Sam?"

"Oh yeah, sorry" Sam frowned as he tried to recall details. "I came in early for breakfast… "

Even as a Seaman Recruit, Sam Axe was not a morning person. No matter what punishment was leveled; he was always the last one out of his rack. These days, he didn't always have a choice about what time he got up.

Seven years out of the Navy and he still got nightmares. He had reoccurring dreams of the buddies he'd lost or nearly lost or those who came home minus major body parts. Sam pushed the images from his mind.

The one plus of getting up early was that Carlito's had a wicked brunch for the tourist. He'd get there while they were still setting up and one of the cute waitresses would fix him up. Free food definitely fit his retirement budget but more importantly there were free Mimosas.

This morning Sam decided to walk to Carlito's, a little exercise would do him good and he'd work up his appetite. As he passed through the patio he noticed the blond sitting at his usual table. He'd seen her here a few times before but not sitting at his favorite spot.

Normally, he would have used her encroachment into his territory as a playful opportunity to chat her up, but he wasn't in the mood. He wasn't a morning person. _Why couldn't she be here at 1100 like a normal tourist? _

"Morning darling," Sam winked at one of the waitresses. "What's on the menu?" She smiled knowingly and headed to the kitchen. The menu was the same as always, he knew it and she knew it.

Sam pulled one of the stools down from the bar and tried to get comfortable. He was already missing his cozy corner on the patio. It was the best seat in the place; he could watch all the beautiful ladies come and go.

He watched the woman seated so leisurely at his table. She was facing the water, eyes closed, she looked completely at peace. The sun had just started to rise over the horizon; its rays warmed her face and highlighted her blonde hair.

Sam decided, for no particular reason, that she was beautiful but not his type. She was too young, she couldn't be more than early 30's, she had short hair... _hardly enough to hold on to _… he chucked to himself and didn't have the abundant hourglass curves he had come to appreciate. His assessment was interrupted by the waitress setting a plate on the bar.

"Here you go sweetie," she smiled.

"Thanks Jenny, you're a doll," Sam grinned and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of this protein lover's delight: scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage. He really wanted some of their hash browns but c_arbs are the enemy, _he reminded himself.

Sam took time this morning to enjoy his breakfast. He had another helping of eggs and washed it down with a second Mimosa. _Life's pretty good._ He decided he was going relax before heading home and watch South Beach wake up. The efficiency with which the merchants set up their trinket stands could rival any ant colony. His plans were spoiled when he saw that "_not my type" _was still sitting at his table.

Sam chided himself about being critical of this pretty stranger. He didn't own Carlito's or the table and considering the amount of free food and booze they gave him, he really shouldn't bitch. He shrugged; _I'm not a morning person._ Sam was so caught up with his inner monologue that he didn't notice how _not my type_ was now watching at him and doing so with a curious smile.

Sam could only imagine, with some embarrassment, the sort of stupid-ass-look he had on his face while talking to himself!

Sam never cared about being "caught" watching a woman. In fact, he counted on it. When discovered, he'd give em his tried-and-true smile and that was that! This time he felt a little like a "peeping Tom" and his return smile was more like an idiot's grin. _Why couldn't she be here at 2000 like a normal tourist? _

"Hey Jenny, can I get a Mimosa for the lady?" Sam nodded in the direction the patio

"Sure hon, but it's just orange juice."

"What?"

"It's just OJ"

"Okay, can I get an OJ for the lady?" Sam shook his head, _who the hell drinks just orange juice? _

Sam thanked Jenny and headed towards his table. He felt like he needed to recover his Sam Axe'ness.

"Morning" Sam smiled, "You looked like you were ready for another. The best fresh squeezed in South Beach."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"I'm Sam Axe." He waited to see if she invited him to sit, thankfully she did.

"Anna" she offered as they shook hands.

"You're up awful early, the juice that good?"

Anna turned back towards the beach. "I like the sunrise."

Sam waited a beat not waiting to interrupt her moment with El , "I take it then you're not from Miami?" trying to draw her back. "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

She turned her attention back to Sam, "I don't know yet. I'm waiting to see how things pan out. And you?"

"I moved here a few years ago. It was supposed to be just a visit but I'm still here." Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, he'd moved onto a Mojito.

"Business or pleasure? " Anna asked

He wasn't sure what she meant, "Oh well, it's turned out to be a little bit of both."

"Hmm," she took a long drink. "And what do you do Sam?" Anna's interest was now fully directed on him.

Sam noted the change in Anna's focus and how intense her attention felt. He liked it but it was also a little unnerving. "I'm retired … Navy Seal… " he liked to toss that in when he could, it always impressed the ladies. Her expression didn't change. _Damn_. "Uh… now I work now as a … Security Consultant."

Anna already knew plenty about "Sam Axe," former Navy Seal, questionable discharge, womanizer, borderline alcoholic, spent most of his time with an OCD driven spy and a ex-IRA terrorist gun dealer with violent tendencies. But that was all on paper, some first-hand knowledge couldn't hurt.

"How do you like that type of work Sam?"

Sam felt his cheeks flush slightly; he liked the way she said his name. "It pays the bills." He chuckled.

"Is it dangerous?" she asked, raising her glass a final time.

Sam didn't answer right away. He watched as the last bit of pulp slid down the inside of the glass and wet her lips. She looked at him, awaiting his answer. "Uh … well… you know… sometimes things can get a little dicey." He cleared his throat and took another drink from his Mojito.

A silence fell over the table. _This must be where I make my exit._ Sam thought. _Or you could ask her question dumb-ass_. Sam considered his query options but elected instead to watch her fingertips follow the lines of perspiration on the empty glass. He could see that whatever she was thinking about had her miles. _Yup, time to go Sammy. _ He was about to get up when she looked back up and smiled.

"I'm staying not too far from here."

"Sorry?" Again, he wasn't sure what she was saying. _Why doesn't this lady speak in full sentences! _Then it hit him, "Oh…. uh…" Sam was rarely at a loss for words but something had him off his game. "I'm … very flattered… but uh … ya know, I'm really a little too old for you."

Anna's laughter took Sam by surprise. One it was the most expressive he'd ever seen her and two he didn't like being laughed at. He felt his face flush again. Her laughter turned to a soft smile when she saw the look in his eyes. The change told him she wasn't laughing **at** him but at his lame objection.

"Really?" She said softly, smiling and still clearly amused.

It was Sam's turn to chuckle. He tried to think of something cute, sexy or charming to say but came up blank. Anna got from the table, Sam followed, y_ou don't have to ask me three times!_

Sam had been to a few Ritz-Carlton hotels but not this one on S. Beach. It gave "five stars" a whole new meaning. Anna took his hand and led Sam away from the main entrance. They walked down a shaded path to one of the private cabanas.

Reaching a hotel room door was usually Sam's queue to rev up his charm but found the quiet stillness with which they entered felt right.

Anna dropped the key card onto one of the small tables and went to the hotel phone.

Sam made himself busy looking round the room. The décor was simple, elegant; "understated class" is what Elsa would call it. He felt a twinge of guilt even though they were no longer together. _What am I doing here? _Sam knew he loved the ladies, sometimes a little too much, but he did have some rules. No banging married women and he wasn't completely comfortable, not these days anyway, with picking up random chics in bars.

Sam had to think fast or he might end up walking, possibly running, out of the room. _I don't think she's married… Elisa and I are done… Carlito's technically isn't a bar until 1400… _Sam's rationalizations were interrupted by Anna's voice.

"Two hours will be fine." she instructed

Anna came and stood next to Sam at the window, so close he could feel the warmth of her body. He set his gaze outside but was keenly aware of her eyes on him.

She touched his arm and he turned him to look at her. Anna brushing her lips again Sam's neck. He felt a shiver run through his body. His hands moved to her hips pulling her closer as he tipped his head back giving her more of his neck. He was particularly sensitive there. "Two hours?"

Anna slid her fingers through his hair grasping a fist full and holding him tight as she slowly kissed and sucked her way up his neck, ending with a soft bite below his ear.

Sam's shiver came with a low moan. "Oh, shit.."

She whispered "I got us something to eat" and began kissing her way to the other side of his neck.

Sam was quickly loosing all reservations about where they were headed. His hands slipped around her back, pulling her against him. "I'm not really hungry…"

This time Anna's laugh was much softer. She leaned back to look at Sam, the glint in her eye was pure mischief. "Oh, you will be."


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, you get the idea Mike." Sam ended sheepishly

"Yeah, I do Sam. "

Sam never wanted to change the subject of who he'd bedded so fast, "So.. uh... Mike... what does she want?"

"She wants me to stop looking for whoever killed Nate."

"But, you said that was her." Sam rubbed his eyes as if doing so could possibly relieve the pounding in his head. "I'm confused."

"I don't understand it either Sam but right now I just need to get her back out into the open."

"And how are we going to do that?

"I'm not sure yet." Michael showed Sam the slip of paper with Anna's number.

"She left a phone number?" Sam stared at the paper in his hand.

"Pierce said it went nowhere." Michael pushed back from the table. "Look, I need to get back to Fi"

As Sam followed Michael back to the loft he realized that he hadn't actually hadn't been invited to do so. He replayed their conversation in his head and noted the oft used "we," whenever they made plans, had been replaced with "I." _You really screwed things up this time. _

For Michael, the tales of Sam's sexual exploits had been a source of amusement for years. He didn't believe half the stories he heard but Sam was damn good at spinning a good yarn. This time it was different. Michael believed Sam when he said he didn't know how Anna but it couldn't shake the feeling that his best friend had been sleeping with the enemy. Sam's habit of moving from one woman to another wasn't so amusing.

As Michael and Sam entered the loft, Fiona could see something wasn't right. Even during their most difficult times, rarely was there silence between them. On top of the silence, Michael immediately embraced her. "What's going on?" she asked

"Nothing," Michael, kissed her cheek

Sam wasn't going to have elephant in the room sitting on his chest longer than it was necessary. "I slept with Anna." He then helped himself to a beer.

"You what?!"

Sam downed half the bottle before responding to Fiona, "I didn't know who the hell she was at the time!"

"What about Elsa?"

Michael interrupted, "Fi, we'll have to catch you up later."

Sam waited for the well chosen expletives Fiona was about to send his way.

"Sam, you ready?" Michael asked, saving Sam again

"Ready for what?"

"Call **her**." Michael couldn't bring him to use her name

"What the hell am I going to say?"

This wasn't exactly what Sam expected but the look on Michael's face said he'd better think of something to say and fast.

Sam entered the numbers into his cell phone as slowly as he dared. Sam was about to sigh with relief after it rang three times and no one picked up. He wasn't so lucky…

"Hello Sam"

"Oh, hey… " Not usually one to be at a loss for words Sam looked to Michael for some help.

Michael was staring at the counter.

Sam tried again, "You took off so quick … " his sentence trailed off. _What the hell do I say to this woman?_

"It seemed prudent at the time," she responded with a smile in her voice. "Sam, will you put me on speaker?"

Sam shrugged and set the phone on the counter. He pretended not to notice that Fiona had returned and was glaring at him.

"Michael?"

"I'm here."

"This is not what I would consider letting it go Michael."

"You didn't really think I would drop this so easily. I want answers" Michael didn't try hiding the emotions behind his words.

"Answers won't change anything Michael."

Michael picked up the phone and measured his tone carefully, "You want me to stop?"

There was a long silence before, "Alright Michael."

"Where?"

"I'll let you know." The line disconnected before Michael could respond.

Few words were exchanged as the three set about planning Michael's meet. It took less than 30 minutes to hide Fiona's Walther behind the driver's side door and conceal a tracking device in the heel of Michael's shoe. There wasn't much else to do now but wait.

Sam made himself scarce by camping out on the balcony.

Michael and Fiona lay on the bed, both staring at the ceiling. Fiona couldn't think of a gentle way to break the silence or find out what was going on, "baby?"

"I think you're right Fi," Michael responded, his gaze still fixed on nothing

"Right?" Fiona turned to face Michael. She had finally learned that pushing Michael Weston wasn't the way to get what she needed, to know what he was thinking or what he was feeling.

"It's never ending," he swallowed back tears, now definitely wasn't the time.

Fiona ran her fingers lightly through his hair. As much as she wanted to know what he was going through, it wasn't easy to watch as he let pieces of his wall slip away.

Michael reached up, pushing a few stray hairs back behind Fiona's ear. "So, I meet this woman, the woman who killed Anson and Nate, then what?"

Several hours passed in silence before Michael's cell vibrated with a message: LAT: 25.919839 / LONG: -81.224842

This mission should have been an easy "in and out" as were similar missions in the past. The killing of Nate Weston was regrettable but unavoidable. Nate has been her first "civilian" kill. She knew it was an eventual inevitably but it still didn't sit well. And sleeping with Sam Axe, that was just plain amateurish.

Anna stood in the dark considering her options. The "week" she had given Michael was the time she'd been allotted to convince him to move on with his life. She didn't have a good feeling about her chances. She'd seen his type before and it rarely ended well.

She looked at her watch; Michael should be nearing the GPS coordinates she had sent him. It was now or never. Anna text Sam, _We have to talk._

Sam and Fiona had been taking turns staring at the laptop and the red dot that was Michael Weston en route to God knows where.

Sam almost dropped his phone when he saw the message.

"What is it?" Fiona asked, not really that interested.

"Uh, nothing… just a buddy." Sam stepped away from the kitchen counter to text, _what?_

_Come outside. _

Sam turned back to Fiona who was staring at the screen, "I'm going to go outside and a quick call. You okay?"

"Whatever."

Sam headed towards the loft door. "Yeah, got your message… " speaking to the dial tone in his ear. He closed the door behind him and paused on the landing, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Here Sam." came a voice from below.

Sam headed down the stairs in the direction of the voice, "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be meeting Michael."

Anna stepped out from the shadows.

"I needed him out of the way." She saw the startled look cross Sam's face. "I mean, just away from here. Michael's fine."

Sam didn't know where to begin. "If you weren't a woman… " He had a lot of questions of his own but what he really wanted to do was punch something or someone!

"I know Sam. I need to talk to you and Fiona."

"This is fucking crazy." Sam tried keeping his voice low. "What could you have to say to me or to Fiona? You'd be lucky if she shot you on the spot."

"You mean doesn't shoot me."

"No, I mean _**does**_."

"Sam, this situation is going to get a lot worse if something isn't done quickly."

"Okay, I'll call Michael, the CIA and you can turn yourself in," Sam headed back upstairs.

"That's not going to happen Sam," Anna followed. "Do you think they'd let me turn myself in? Even if I could, they'll send someone to finish the job I couldn't"

Sam stopped midway up the stairs. "Why the hell are you here?" Sam could no longer contain his anger. "And stop using my name." He knew that last sentence was ridiculous but felt duped. Worse was the feeling that he had put his friendship with Michael in jeopardy.

"Michael will not move on, not without your help, not without Fiona's help. If he doesn't …" Anna didn't think she needed to finish her sentence.

"Who are you?"

The question was rhetorical but the pain behind it was real. "Sam, I didn't come to Miami to kill Nate Weston." She paused to consider how continue, "Or to hurt … "

Sam waved her off, "Save it," and continued up the stairs.

Sam rapped gently on the loft door before opening it. He didn't want to startle Fiona Glenanne when she was armed and on edge. She was in the exact same spot as when he'd left, staring at the laptop.

"Took you long enough"

Sam took a few tentative steps into the loft, leaving the door open behind him.

Fiona turned the laptop towards Sam, "Get over here, I have to pee."

"Uh, you might want to wait on that." Sam raised his hands, why he wasn't sure. "And you might want to take a deep breath right about now.

"Christ, what now Sam?" Fiona's Irish accent slipped out when she was really on edge. "And are going close the door?!"

He looked back towards the open door.

Sam knew Fiona was quick draw but the speed with which she had a gun pointed in his general direction nearly caused him to pee then and there. "Wait Fi…" He still wasn't sure why the hell he was holding his hands up but holding them a little bit higher seemed like a good idea.

Anna hadn't expected any other reaction. She was somewhat surprised that Fiona had managed not to shoot her on site as Sam predicted.

"Sam, what the hell is going on… where's Michael." Fiona closed the distance between them

Anna moved a little farther into the loft and closed the door. "I promise you, Michael is fine."

"You need to get on the ground before I put a bullet in your head."

"No"

Sam turned back to look at Anna as if had just lost her mind. _What did you just say?_

Anna had even startled herself with that response. She knew she was in the deep end now. There was no point in half-measures.

Sam could see the gun in Fi's hand was trembling. He knew it wasn't from fear. "Fi, she said she's here to help us… to help Mikey."

Fiona pull out her cell phone to dial Michael… it went to voice mail.

"There's no cell service that far out." Anna finally raised her hands, if only to emphasize her non-violent intentions. "If you don't like what I have to say, you can always shoot me later."

"Fi, I think we should at least hear what she has to say."

Michael checked the GPS readout on his cell phone, for the third time. They matched the coordinates Anna had sent. Instead of a cabin, an open field lay in front of him. _Son of a bitch!_

Michael already knew he was too far out to get a signal but couldn't help trying. He dialed Fiona, then Sam and then his Mom. _Son of a bitch! _

He got back in the Charger, the wheels spun in the dirt as he turned it around. What the hell did she send me out here?

Anna moved very deliberately towards the kitchen counter, Fiona had yet to lower her gun and kept tracked her movement. When she reached the counter she looked at the screen. "He got there faster than I expected."

Fiona slammed the laptop closed.

Anna wasn't sure where to start; this entire situation was way out of her comfort zone. She hadn't really thought about what she would say. She wasn't good with words, wasn't good with feelings, she was good with a gun.

She could feel Sam and Fiona's eyes boring into her. That just made her more uncomfortable; she felt her mouth go dry. She opened the fridge and picked up a yogurt, "Don't you guys ever get tired of blueberry?"

"Look… this may be fun and games for you but Mike's our friend so if you have something to say, get on with it."

Anna nodded without looking at Sam. She exchanged the yogurt of a bottle of water, took a sip and turned her attention to Fiona. She decided short, bitter and to the point was her best option. "Anson Fullerton was killed because he lost … perspective."

"Perspective?" Sam repeated

"He began showing signs of instability. He started using his unique skills set and resources for his own gains. Then he became obsessed with his last" she searched for the right word, "assignment."

"You mean Michael." Fiona corrected her

"Yes. Now Michael is focused on me and consequently my employer. They won't allow his obsession to continue."

"Obsession?! You killed his brother! Michael is nothing like Anson!" Fiona blurted

"Net yet. There was a time Anson would have been considered a good man." The words came out of Anna's mouth before considered her audience.

"That psychopath!?

"Oh, bullshit!" Sam

Anna felt anger rise in the pit of her stomach, "He was not always the man you knew!"

"Great, a character reference coming from the mouth of an assassin." Fiona taunted

"Are you going to stand there and tell me you've never killed?" Anna turned to Sam "Or you?"

"I've never killed a civilian!" Fiona snapped back. "And we were at war."

Anna closed the distance between her and Fiona. "You're delusion. You think the mothers; sons or wives of the British solders you blew to bits mourned less because their loved ones wore a uniform?" She looked down at the gun now pressed against her ribs. "You can't miss from here."

"Now wait a minute…" Sam stepped forward, he wasn't sure he could separate these two.

"Enough!" Anne suddenly appreciated her anger. It gave her focus. "I'm not here to debate with either of you." She glanced at her watch. "Michael has been headed down the same path as Anson for years and the two of you have been clearing the way for him." Anna headed towards the loft door.

Fiona raised her gun at the back of Anna's head, "Where do you think you're going?"

Anna turned just as she reached the door. "I did say you could shoot me if you didn't like what you heard but do you think whoever comes after me will be any different?" She wasn't going to give Fiona time to consider her options.

Sam waived Fiona off and pointed to the laptop as he headed after Anna, "Find out where he's at."

Anna was standing at the bottom of the stairs when Sam stepped through the doorway. _Was she waiting for him? _"That was awfully dramatic."

"I'd prefer effective,"

"Is everything you said true?"

"Yes" she didn't bother hiding her exhaustion

Sam took a moment to consider his next question, "And you would kill Michael?"

"S… " she caught herself, "you already know the answer to that question."

"God damn it Anna, Michael Weston is not Anson."

"That's my hope too."


End file.
